


Happy Homo Heaven

by CumberCollectedBabe



Series: Post-513: the way QaF should have ended [1]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-14 01:01:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4544112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CumberCollectedBabe/pseuds/CumberCollectedBabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The way the series should have ended. Brian's POV. Brian/Justin smut and lemons. Possible OOC, depending on your view of the characters, but personally I think it works.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Homo Heaven

Eight months, eight fucking months it took to reopen. I’d say I can’t believe it, but I can, considering what it took to get it going. Rebuilding anything from the inside out takes a long time, I discovered that when starting Kinnetic. I thought that was frustrating and impossibly long, hah! You try rebuilding a building after a bomb goes off. And it wasn’t the actual work, no… it was the damn insurance companies and the investigation and the interviews, and I WAS FUCKING INVESTIGATED. I know, I know, it was standard, had-to-do-it, no-offense, just-checking-all-possibilities, kind of crap, but still! Had to make sure I didn’t do it just to get the money. My fucking friends and family was in there, yeah fucking right I did it. Okay, so clearly I have issues with this whole thing, like we don’t all know that. Brian Kinney has issues, no, really?

Well, it also took a while cause after the bombing, and the obvious lack of security with how that could have gotten in. We increased security, and upgraded all the security systems, with the best fucking state of art technology known to man, at least it better be for what I paid. So it better be fucking impossible for anything like that to ever happen again.

Okay, so Babylon is finally opening back up. I wasn’t sure this day would get here, I wasn’t even sure I wanted it to get here. Thanks to Mikey. I should have figured he would support Babylon reopening, but after the last year, with how Mikey and I ended things at our last fight, before HE left. I try not to think about any of that, but it’s really fucking hard not to. I could have lost HIM that night. I could have lost Mikey, I could have lost… thank fucking god, or whoever the fuck controls things. Linds wasn’t inside, or Gus, or Debbie. Although with two of those three being in fucking Canada it’s almost like losing them, but I can at least see them. And I have.

It took me a couples months to fall back into a semi-comfortable routine. Not that I didn’t want to rebuild Babylon, it sure as hell kept me busy and my mind off other things. I didn’t want to, at first. Why? Why would Brian Kinney not want to rebuild Babylon, my baby, my second home, my playground? I was serious when I said who would want to pay $20 to dance to the memories of bombs and corpses? But in a way, I’m glad it’s done. Theodore was right… okay I’m not drunk, not high, and I just thought Theodore was right, who would have fucking thought I’d think that? Although I’m never telling him that! What was he right about? Oh, right, I couldn’t have turned Babylon, our happy homo heaven, into a homogenized strip mall for the masses. I may be too… well, not as young as I used to be, but there’s still a whole lot of fags, and whole new generation of queers, trannies and twinks who need Babylon.

So I stand by my original thought, statement, and belief system: I’m a cocksucker! I’m queer! And to anyone who takes pity or offense, I say Judge Yourself! This is where I live! This is who I am.

Now enough with the melodramatics, although I’m not a drama queen (at least I’ll deny it under pain of death or torture). I have fallen into a routine. I work my ass off at work, being the big, fat, fucking success that all my perseverance and narcissism can get me. Jesus Christ, even with HIM not here, I think like him. I try to make it to Toronto a couple times a month to spend time with Gus, I definitely make sure I’m there at least once a month. The first time was hard, and it’s certainly not that I didn’t want to see him, or forget him, it’s that I knew leaving would be that much harder. But Linds called about a month after they left, we talked about absolutely nothing important, cause I didn’t want to, and we didn’t mention HIM. Then Gus wanted to say hi. That’s all it took, it was a Friday night, and as shocked as I think Linds was to have me calling at all, much less Friday when I normally would be out, I still wanted to talk to my son. I flew up the next morning and spent all weekend there. Although I stayed in a hotel, I wasn’t about to stay in the munchers guest room, even if it was offered… thanks, but no thanks.

So, yeah, I make it up there every month. I fly to Canada at least once a month, and for business wherever I’m needed, sometimes, but not to New York. He’s living his dream, he’s a starving artist in New York, making his mark on the art world. Speaking of being a big, fat, fucking success. He will be. He’s a fucking genius, and his art is absolutely stunning. I had to give him a clean break when he left. I wasn’t going to hold him back from reaching his dream. Why stay in the fucking Pitts when you can be in New York? I know I’ve always said that New York was my dream, but, let’s face it, the Pitts is unfortunately my home. I couldn’t take New York by storm no matter how much I want to. HE can!

Anyway, back to where I am. I’m in Babylon, it’s officially open, and everyone (well, almost everyone) is here. Ted and Blake are over by the bar, which, now that I think about is kind of weird since they won’t be drinking. Emmie Lou and his new beau are dancing out there. And Mikey just went to join Ben in the throng of hot hunky studs and twinks. Are they hot and hunky? Yes, I’m a fag, of course I’m gonna think that, but they’re not beautiful, are they?

The music is pumping, the thumpa, thumpa is pounding, the lights are flashing and the glitter is falling. Mikey looks amazing; I’m not even gonna bother comparing him to the last time I saw him here. I love him, always have, always will. He’s happy, he’s here for me, and he’s with Ben. We’ve come a long way, me and him. And even with everything he went through after the bombing, I’m not sure which of us has grown more. People can’t seem to think that I could change, but I can… I did… I have. I still think he’s a stepford fag, but I had to remember that he grew up in a happy, loving home, albeit with Debbie in charge – that explains so much – so he would grow up wanting a happy, loving home with kids and a yard and a mortgage, with barbeques and play dates. I didn’t, so I don’t, it’s fake, it doesn’t exist, we make our own happiness, whatever that may be. At least I used to think that. Now I know that happiness can come from outside yourself, when you let it in.

So I’m dancing, getting into the swing of things, enjoying being the center of attention, right in the center of the gayest place in all of Pittsburg. At least I’m trying. Mikey’s happy, and everyone here is happy, so I’m trying to enjoy it, I’m trying for my own happiness. I’m trying to lose myself in the music and the beat, and it feels good, not great, but good. And I’m NOT going to say that something, or someone, is missing.

And then something happens as I’m dancing with my eyes closed, hands in the air, feeling the energy that is Babylon. I feel someone behind me, a very familiar someone close behind me, and I feel the heat and energy radiate out… and as his arms come around me, he gets closer, and it hits. The heat, the body, that oh-so-familiar feeling, it’s physical, emotional, sensual, psychological, and suddenly eight months feels like a fucking eternity.

Wait a minute… again, why the fuck would he come back to the Pitts after New York? And you know he’s going to leave again, oh god, that ecstatic euphoric feeling twists and bends into sadness and pain, which you thought you’d never have to feel again. Then you feel his crotch press against your ass and his chest against your back and his arms tighten around you. You feel his breath on the back of your neck, and his arms slide under your shirt front and just touch your chest. And suddenly you forget why you care if he has to leave again, you haven’t touched his skin, or had his skin touching you in far, FAR too long.

It will be so worth the pain and heartache just to stay like this a little while longer. Somewhere back in your mind you think there’s a hundred different positions the two of you can be in to enjoy this short lived reunion, but you didn’t realize how much you missed him till now. And you know, without a shadow of a doubt, that him just holding you is all the touch you need right now.

“I’ve decided that me being in New York and you being in Pittsburg was counterproductive to my goals. I need to prioritize and concentrate on my art, and I can’t do that alone, away from my friends and family, and, most definitely…you!”

He whispers that last word slowly enough to blow over my ear like a caress. And I think I’m grinning like an idiot, but I don’t really care.

“So I’d like to take you up on your offer, if it still stands.”

Little shit. God, I love him, though… Holy shit! Did I just think that? I know I’ve thought it before, but it’s been, well, since he left, and I haven’t since, but I so totally fucking remember.

His arms have been holding me tight, and his hands weren’t moving. But his grip loosens a little, and my first thought, is please don’t let go, followed by, I still don’t get quite why he’s here, he needs to be in New York to be a success. But he doesn’t completely let go, his arms stay there but they’re moving. Actually he’s moving to stand in front of me, his hands still sliding under the shirt, on my skin, now on the small of my back.

I haven’t quite opened my eyes. What will I see? Can I look? Do I want to know what his eyes will tell me?

His hands feel so good, god I’ve missed him. I know I’ve thought that before. Thought I could survive without this, without him, but, I really don’t know what’s going to happen next. Although he’s just standing there, not moving, except for his hands, they’re rubbing small gentle circles over my back. He’s not quite touching my front, but I can feel him everywhere. I guess I’ll never know what’s going to happen if I don’t take a chance. And he’s giving me that chance. Letting me do this on my time, letting me open up to him my way. And – as Mikey has said so many times – I’m Brian Kinney for fucks sake, and I don’t do regrets, and I can certainly as fuck take a chance on this, on HIM. So I open my eyes.

God, he’s beautiful. Absolutely fucking beautiful, and his smile, he is Sunshine! I haven’t seen him smile like that since… oh, god, it was… prom. He looks so fucking happy, and, at peace. His eyes are sparkling, shining, unfathomable sapphire pools that I have lost myself in so many times, but never admitted to anyone. His hair is gold and silver and the sun and the moon and the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. His lips are the most perfect shade of pink, soft, smooth, plump, the most kissable mouth in the world. And, Christ, I know I’m being lesbianic, but I don’t fucking care, because it’s… Justin.

And his smile gets even bigger, why? Oh, I must have said his name out loud. Didn’t know that. I think I’ll try for that reaction again.

“Justin.”

How the fuck can his smile get even bigger, and, fuck, when they say a smile that reaches your eyes. When they say eyes are the window to the soul. They weren’t fucking kidding. I can see inside him, he’s as open as he’s ever been, and his eyes, I can’t even describe them, he looks so fucking happy, and I put that look there. I made him feel that way. My voice saying his name made him that open and caring and loving.

“Brian.”

Okay, apparently his voice saying my name can do the same to me that I can do to him. I’ve heard my name thousands of times over the years, but no one, absolutely NO ONE says it the way he does. And no one can make me feel the way I’m feeling right now other than my Justin. Did I just think that? …. Yes, yes I did. Cause I can see what he feels, what he’s trying to say with his body, with his eyes, with his hands, with the few words he’s uttered. And being the romantic little twat that he is if I said My Justin, it would probably make him cry. And while as interesting as that reaction will be to play with, it will have to wait till later, because there will be a later, at least today, possibly tomorrow. We’ll have to see about how much later we’ll be getting.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“I knew you’d reopen Babylon. I’m glad you did… it looks amazing.”

“Well you know how I love to be fabulous, and the center of attention.”

“Yes, I do know you.”

“Yeah.”

So, back to the serious, okay. Maybe this isn’t really the best place to talk. I’m sure no one can hear us over the music, even if we’re talking loudly enough to hear over the music. Also because we’ve been holding each other in such a familiar position for long enough and staring at each other long enough that with as serious as we should be, and I can’t believe I’m thinking this, we need to talk. Not to mention the heat between us, the sparks and electricity that our bodies have when it’s just the two of us this close to each other, nothing can happen in the middle of Babylon’s dance floor, at least not right now.

I step back a little, but I keep my arms on his shoulders, and I know he’s feeling the same thing I am and releases his grip a little to give a little more room between us.

“Why don’t we go somewhere more private to talk?”

Yep, the exact look I thought: shock. But then his features soften and accepts that this needs to happen, and I’m showing him that I’m willing to listen this time. And he smiles, that soft smile; it’s not his Sunshine smile, but it’s my smile, the one that only I get to see.

“Where did you have in mind?”

“Funny you should ask. I happen to know the owner, and I’m pretty sure he’d let us use his office.”

“He would, would he? Well then, as long as it’s okay, by all means, lead the way.”

So I step off the platform and offer my hand to him. He looks almost stunned, but then smiles again, and takes my hand and walks off the platform and steps up to my side. He puts his arm around my waist and I wrap my arm around his shoulder. You know, you’d think of all the positions I’ve missed with him, this is surprisingly one of my favorites. And yes I love him under me and (don’t you dare repeat this to anyone) on top of me, but I really love him being beside me, as my equal. He’s not only my equal, he’s so much more. Partner, lover, fiancé… okay maybe not that last one, yes, I wanted to marry him, but I still can’t do the whole happy hetero routine. Wanted, hmmm, that feeling of wanting to marry him hasn’t gone away.

We’re at the office. I unlock the door and open it for him. Not only do I want him to get his bearings first, but, what can I say, I’m queer and I’ve always enjoyed a good ass, and walking behind the most perfect ass, ever, is a plus.

I come in and close and lock the door behind me. Not for the reasons you may be thinking. I don’t know how far this thing, whatever it is, is going tonight, but there is no way in hell I want to be interrupted while talking to him. I get the feeling that whatever is said this time around is going to affect everything. Whatever we decide tonight will change our lives, even in the way his leaving for New York didn’t. I turn around and get ready to face the music.

He’s not sitting – there are two chairs in front of my desk, a small table over to the side of the office, my desk chair and a rather large sofa. It’s really comfortable – hey, none of those thoughts… yet – it’s great for naps – shut up – I love Babylon and dancing and drinking and I may be healthy, but I’m still, you know, not young, and naps are good – I dare anyone over 35 to not agree with me.

He’s standing staring at the wall behind my desk. Shit! I forgot, well, not forgot, per se, I just didn’t remember that I had that put it in here. His eyes are glistening with unshed tears.

“How… how did you… where?”

He turns to look at me. I walk up to him and gently wipe the almost tear from his eye.

“I’m assuming you remember when you sold that sketch.”

He nods.

“Well, you probably always wondered who bought it, where it went, what happened to it.”

“I never knew who… I mean it was my first work of art that ever sold. I know what I thought at the time, but, did you buy it that night? Or did you buy it from the person who bought it?”

“I bought it that night.”

We’re both looking at the sketch now. Six years ago I bought that. His first show, albeit at the fucking GLC, and even though I was a very different person then, I was proud of him. Any 17 year old that can draw that well not only had talent, but promise to be amazing. I had teased Theodore about him buying it, but I bought it. I had to.

“Can I ask why?”

“Because…”

“Did you not want anyone else to own a nude Brian Kinney?”

He says it jokingly, but I can see he’s a little nervous that’s why I did buy it and that I might have been upset at him displaying it for others to see. So not worrying about that, then or now. Like who hasn’t seen me naked?

“I wouldn’t have cared who owned a picture of me, nude or otherwise, I mean who hasn’t seen me naked?”

He laughs, god, I missed that sound. He has the most expressive, joyful, soul searing laugh.

“Seriously though… I bought it because you drew it.”

His breath catches and he turns to me, quickly, stunned, touched, then confused.

“I… I know how you feel about my art, you’ve always told me exactly what you think. Thank you for that, by the way, I wouldn’t have been able to do any of the art I’ve done without your encouragement.”

“I didn’t do anything – “

“Yes you did, and let me finish. You encouraged me, although, at the time neither one of us knew what it meant. I couldn’t believe that my silly sketches were going to be in an art show. I knew they were good, but who on earth would want them?

I mean why pay money for those drawings? But then my pictures did sell. I’ve always loved drawing, and I always wanted to be an artist, but I knew that wouldn’t be accepted at the time. Then when those drawings sold, I knew… I knew I could make a living at being an artist. You encouraged me to follow my dreams, no matter what anyone else said. You paid for my tuition, even when you shouldn’t.”

“We’re not going to go there are we?”

“That’s not where I was going, no… You’ve always believed in me, in my work, and you, you…”

He looks at me with… I’ve always known he’s loved me, which was something I definitely fought for a long time, something I thought he was too young and naïve to understand to admit. His eyes and soul are so open right now, so full of love, and gratitude and appreciation. He walks slowly towards me and leans up to kiss me. And while I think if he does I’ll have a hell of a time not christening my couch, chairs, desk, floor, and anywhere else I can think of, I know that he needs a little reassurance and comfort and grounding.

So I lean down and meet him half way. It’s not an open mouth kiss. His hand comes up to caress my cheek as he kisses me. His lips are so fucking soft, and he smells, god… he smells so good. And as much as I’m trying not to get hard and ruin this moment and conversation (huh, first for me), the kiss is so tender, so soft, so sweet that I can’t get hard. Not because I’m not turned on, but because I honestly don’t think I’ve had a more affectionate, gentle kiss in my life.

He pulls back and we open our eyes and look at each other.

“I need to finish this thought, so here goes,”

He puts both in hands on the side of my face and he looks more serious, more responsible, more of a man, than I have ever seen him be.

“You have always encouraged my art, and me, and to be the best homosexual I could become. No matter what’s happened that’s pulled us apart, we always find our way back to each other. You’ve believed in me at every hurdle, every step, every obstacle, every injury, every pain, every joy, every sorrow. You, Brian Kinney, made me, helped me, to be who I am today. We both decided I needed to go to New York to pursue my art. Well I did, I worked my ass off at a local diner every night, and worked my art every morning. And while we haven’t been in contact, I always knew what I wanted and what I was willing to do to get it.

I want to be able to paint what I want, when I want, where I want, and at any time I want. I want the freedom to express myself in whatever art technique the mood takes me. I’ve been in New York for months, alone, and working by myself, with no one’s help or guidance. I made it, kind of. I finally found an agent, and I have some art displayed in very small galleries. There weren’t any openings or shows, just a contract to sign and paintings to hang and hopefully sell.

Lindsay said I needed to be in New York to be in the center of the art world. Melanie said that New York was the opportunity of a life time. Everyone was thrilled that New York was waiting to be conquered. But you know what I found out after a couple of months? Sure I was able to pay my own way, I made it on my own, I proved to myself I could be my own person, without anyone. But the most important thing I learned over just these few short months that have felt like an eternity…

I don’t want it. I don’t want New York, I don’t need to conquer the art world, I don’t need to go somewhere for the opportunity of a life time. I want the shows, I want the galleries, maybe not so much the openings, but I want my art to be seen, to be appreciated, to be recognized. And guess what? I had that, here! In Pittsburg, my show, here, that was reviewed, here was where I was seen and “discovered.” So if New York is waiting for me to conquer it, then it can come to me!

I have an agent, someone willing to pass along everything I’ve done and sell myself to galleries wherever there might be an opening. She’s funny, brilliant, intelligent, ruthless, quirky, and a good friend now. She’s actually kind of like Debbie meets Emmett meets Melanie. And once you get to know her, she’s fiercely friendly, protective and powerful.

So, here’s what’s going to happen… actually, first, do you have some water? And can we go sit?”

Huh? Wait, what? Are we still standing? I’ve heard him go on his rants before, but this is so much more than that, this is him telling me exactly what he wants to say, with the look of someone so determined to get their way that I know he’ll make it happen.  I nod, because what else can I do, and he’s going to sit on the sofa and I’m going to get a couple of bottles of water from the small fridge next to my desk.

I hand him his water and sit down next to him, but not too close, cause we’re far from done, and I think I need a little time to process everything that he just said.

“Thanks…. Nice couch by the way.”

“It’s a sofa, a Le Corbusier Sofa, to be exact. It cost a fortune, but I wanted it to be comfortable as well as fashionable.”

“Really?”

I know what he’s thinking, and maybe I should come out with the truth, at least part of it now… but, he wanted to finish, so let’s see how I can turn this back to him so he can finish and then I can say my piece, or is that peace.

“Sometimes I get tired, or Theodore, when he’s working here late. And he’s informed me it’s come in handy a few times when Blake’s here, but don’t worry it’s been disinfected since then. No one but the two of us are allowed in here, well, and our partners, of course, so, you know, when you’re here, if you’re here… anyway, I’m not used to explaining myself, you know that, but I hear what you’re asking and I wanted to ask you to just finish what you think is going to happen now. Then I’ll answer your questions and try to get some things straight, well, figuratively, anyway.”

He chuckles, I smile, this may sound sappy, but I still love his laugh.

“Okay, I understand. Thank you for being willing to talk and ask questions and listen to answers. You’re right, I may as well finish what I was going to say.”

 “Although the sofa did make for a reasonable delay tactic.”

“And I see you know me well, too, but you always have, haven’t you?”

“Not always.” I say quietly, but I refuse to think about the times I didn’t.

“Yes, always, even if our signals got confused every once in a while and we have to expand our vocabulary. Or when neither of us was willing to listen hard enough.

Anyway, not what I think is going happen, what I know is going to happen. I’ve already said what I learned in New York. I did make it on my own, and while I was making it on my own I realized that I’ve never had that. Well, I did have it for a short time here, but it was so close to family and friends, everyone I care about, that it still didn’t seem on my own. I had people help me then, too. I’ve always had someone there helping me or supporting me, whether I welcomed it or fought it. Other’s paying for me, finding jobs for me, giving me somewhere to live, buying me food and clothes. I’ve never really made it completely on my own. So the part of me that went to New York needed to prove to myself that I could do it.

I could be me, whoever that was, and I found out who I was. It took me a few months, but I figured it out. I know who I am, I know what I want, and I know how to get it. I haven’t felt this sure since before the bashing. And maybe that’s what all this comes down to, I haven’t been sure of a lot since then. I always knew I loved you, and I knew you loved me. Again, I lost that a couple times, and it all comes back to the bashing. We’ve never actually talked about it, and I think we need to, but not right now.”

Whew!

“I don’t want to talk about it, you know I don’t like to… but, you’re right, we do need to. Later, and I’m assuming there will be a later, based on what you’re saying?”

He smiles, and again, it reaches his eyes, you can feel it and see it. He hasn’t looked this happy since prom. It’s unbelievable.

“You’ve got that right! There will definitely be a later. And now’s not the time for that discussion. Now is the time for us, yes, I said us. There’s always been an us, there always will be an us. I know when I left you thought we’d never see each other again. So I gave you your space and let you think it was over, because I think you knew I needed to prove to myself I could conquer New York, maybe not for the same reason as I needed to prove myself. I think you also knew that I needed to make my own way in the world and be independent and confident in my own choices. I also KNOW that you thought by pushing me to New York you were giving me a better life and a chance to be with someone who could give me what I deserved. And I KNOW that you didn’t think I believed that you could change.

I must admit you surprised the hell out of me not going with that guy at our stag party. I still can’t believe the guys pulled that off. And I think part of my overreaction at the time was that I didn’t want to see you change for me. The other part was what I’ve already said, I didn’t think you could change for me, cause I wasn’t sure enough about us to know what to believe. Everything seemed to happen so fast and it all seemed to connect to the bombing.

I know now that while that was a small part, I think the biggest part was me. You never say anything you don’t mean, you’ve never made a promise you haven’t kept, and you have never done anything you didn’t want to do. You have changed, and I can see that and accept that. I haven’t been here, but I’ve heard more than enough from everyone else. I have kept in contact with everyone else. I’ve changed too. And… I’m coming home!”

“But…”

“Before you say anything, you need to listen to me, are you listening?”

I smirk, he always knew how to get the better of me.

“Yes, I’m listening.”

“Good… I’m coming home for me, because I’m tired of New York. I never wanted fame and fortune. I don’t need to be in the center of the art world. I don’t want to paint without inspiration. And for as much as you’d think New York would be an inspiration. There’s one thing New York doesn’t have, and it’s the exact same thing that Hollywood didn’t have… YOU!

And when I say I’m coming home, I mean I’m already here, everything has been taken care of. My agent knows I’m here. I’ve already moved out from that crappy apartment. I gave up my studio space to someone else. I have everything I took with me here, at my mom’s condo. I still need a place to live and a studio to paint, so I can prepare for my first real New York show which will be in 3 months. My question is… where am I going to live and paint? Oh, and I’m open to any, and all, suggestions, because as wonderful as proving myself to, well, myself, living alone sucks!”

I can’t help but laugh at that, and I mean a complete full on, practically roaring laugh. He has no idea. Then again…

“I know exactly what you mean. Living alone always used to be the only thing I wanted, well, that and the money and freedom to do whatever I wanted and fuck whoever I wanted. Then I had this annoying little twink that came into my life and bugged and followed and stalked me until I wasn’t alone any more. And no matter what I said at the time, to others or myself, I couldn’t have been happier to share a space, a home, a life, with that person.

Living alone, I’ve done that off and on my whole miserable adult life. Because I always ended up alone. This may be hard to hear, but I have to say it. Every time you’ve left, I’ve been alone. I didn’t go live with anyone else. I didn’t have anyone to turn to. And it hurt. I never had anyone to support me or guide me or love me. Mikey tried and Debbie tried, even Theodore and Emmett have played their part, but no one has been with me, known me or loved me, except you. So I’ve been alone a lot, and yeah, it does fucking suck, and – “

“Not in a positive, life-affirming way?”

I smile. He’s smiling, too.

And then it dawns on me, “that was practically a speech coming from someone who’s not usually one for talking.”

“Usually?”

“Alright, ever.”

“That’s better.”

“But, I’m tired of being alone, too. I never thought I’d say this, but I’m tired of coming home to an empty loft, an empty bed. I’m tired of not having someone to talk to, to listen, to complain to, to bounce ideas off of. I’m not ready for just a roommate or partner. I meant what I said at your small charmless studio, and at the country manor of your dreams. I would say anything, I would do anything, I’d be anything to make you happy. Not because you want me to be, but because I WANT TO. I’m ready, I’ve been ready, but I didn’t know I was waiting. You said we don’t need rings or vows to prove that we love each other. You’re right we don’t, but you know what?

I want vows and rings and a home and a life, with you. I figure the mansion out in West Virginia is far enough from Stepford land that it doesn’t make us the typical fags following the pack just to prove that we can live a pseudo-hetero life. I want us to live our life, in our home, with our vows, and our promises. I don’t break promises and anything I’ve ever done it’s because I wanted it, even if it was the wrong thing at the time. Even if it was because I thought I was doing to best thing for the other person. Relationships involve two people. And yes, I said relationships. That means both need to have a say, and both need to contribute…

If you want to come home, then… welcome home.”

His eyes are red, and I know he’s not exactly fighting the tears, so much as he doesn’t want to, he’s probably too flabbergasted to figure out whether he should jump for joy, jump and run for the door, or just jump me. Okay, I didn’t need that image. I’m going for sweet, sentimental and open, not horny. On the other hand, with him sitting in front of me, in the privacy and dim lights of my office, in the place where we met, and he’s been gone for eight months, if he did jump me, or I jump him, one could hardly blame me.

“God, you don’t know what it means to hear that. Then again, maybe you do. I was scared and worried and nervous the last couple of weeks, not sure what was going to happen. I’m confident about me and about what I want with my life and in my life. But how I get what I want was completely up to you. I’m ready too. I’ve been ready for months. I still meant what I said about vows and rings, but are you sure? Do you really want to? And I’m assuming we’ll live in the loft? I still need a studio. And did you want a ceremony? We don’t have to have one if you don’t want one. And are we gonna go together to pick out new rings? Do we need rings?”

“Justin!” Good lord, I forgot how fast he could talk. It’s like the more questions he has the faster he speaks.

“What?”

“Finally, I called your name a few times there…. Calm down, we’ll figure it all out. I can answer several of those questions. You sound like your 17 again and eager for everything all at once.”

He blushes slightly then nods furiously.

“I can’t believe I feel this happy, but I knew this is what I wanted I just wanted to make sure it was what you wanted because – “

“Justin.”

“Sorry.” He’s so adorable when he’s blushes. Shit, he hasn’t been this eager since he was 17.

“I want rings and vows, and I think you want them to. Whether you want them or not, I think that sentimental romantic inside you wants that. It doesn’t have to be big, just friends and family, and it doesn’t have to be expensive, shoot, we can even have it here if you want. Less formal, more open, and I think I can arrange having the club closed for one day for the owner and his partner to get hitched.”

Did he just squeak? Wait, that was a giggle, he’s giggling. And scooting closer.

“And you don’t have to worry about studio space, or shopping for new rings, I can take care of both of those right now.”

He stops moving, practically stops breathing.

“What do you mean I don’t have to worry… what are you saying?”

“I kept the rings… and the house… which happens to have an attic that has been converted into a studio.”

He’s silent for a moment. All that self-assuredness, and he picks now to be confused?

“You kept the rings, and the house? But, you didn’t… wait, how do you know that the attic’s been converted into a studio? Did the previous owners do that?”

“I kept the rings, and I couldn’t sell the house, first, it’s for my prince.”

I love his smile and blush!

“Second, I know the attic was converted, because it was done by the current owner right before it’s co-owner moved to New York.”

He gasps and starts crying, actually crying.

“Ooof!”

And throws himself at me, and hugs me tighter than Gus can hug. My arms come around him to hold him as he tries to hold on to me.

“I told you Sunshine, I was ready, and I’m still ready. I hoped at the time the house was everything you’d dreamed of. I couldn’t sell it even if I wanted to. It’s yours.”

I lower my voice to a whisper, and right next to his ear “I love you, Justin.”

He’s sobbing, obviously happy sobs, because I can make out “God, Brian, Love you… so much… can’t believe… mmmph it.”

“What was that last comment?”

He picks his head up and looks at me, completely open and vulnerable and shy and loving, almost like he did that first night under the lamppost.

“Let’s do it.”

And he kisses me, not just any kiss, but one I can feel everywhere, my head, my toes, my nose, my knees, my hands, GOD! His hands, one around my back another in my hair. We’re both panting, fighting for closeness and breath and he tastes and smells so good. His tongue, his lips, his teeth, his cheeks, his neck… I break from his lips, for air, and to attack his neck.

“Brian” he gasps.

I love it when I can make him breathless. I reach my hand down and rub his cock.

“Is this what you want to do?”

He groans and moans and pants and rubs into my hand.

“yeeessss… wait.”

He pulls back a little.

“no, I mean, god yes, but I mean move in together,  - in the house, I want to live in the house,  - I want to see my studio,  - I want… uuhhhhh… oh god.”

I rub my hand into his cock more and reach my other hand around to his ass, and slid my finger in his pants and down his crack and gently push his hole.

“Aaaahhhhh, B…B…Briiiiaaaan.”

“I want to move into the house, too.” I quietly whisper in his ear as I keep rubbing his cock and ass.

“I want to live with you, to marry you, to share my life with you.” And I lick his ear, and right behind his ear, which I know drives him crazy.

“Briiiiaaann… gonna…. Come… ooohhhh…. Want …. Marry … yyoouuhhhhh.”

I love it when he’s all melty and wanton and sexy as, the sexiest, hottest man I’ve ever been with.

“I want to ride you in the stables.” I whisper into his ear as I push into his hole.

“Ooohhh, god…” he’s panting and moving, thrusting his hips as much as he can.

“I want to dive into you in the pool.” I unbutton and unzip his pants and take his cock in my hand.

“Brriiiiaaaaannnn…”

“But…  I want you to slam me in the tennis courts.” And with harder and fasters strokes…

“AAAHHHHH!!” He comes, all over my hand and his pants, and my shirt, and collapses into my lap.

“oh… my… god… I haven’t… come… that hard… in months.”

Then he looks up at me, did I say he looked happy and peaceful before? That was nothing compared to now. This face, this look, this beautiful man, this is what I want to see every morning I wake up, every evening I come home, home… god, that sounds good. Wait, did he just say what I think he said?

“Months, Sunshine? Surely, you’ve…”

I don’t really want to finish that sentence, do I? I don’t do jealousy, okay, well, I didn’t, you know, until he came along. Everyone knows I tricked, all the time, and he did it too, I know it was to please me. That whole if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. Obviously he enjoyed it, we’re guys, gay guys, of course he got off, but I think that was it. I enjoyed the hunt. The fucking was great, too, but it was the hunt, the chase, the I-can-get-anyone and it’ll be the best fuck they’ve ever had. Have I tricked since Justin left? Yes, you wouldn’t believe how much though.

“Ummm… not really… I mean, at first I was too busy so I didn’t go clubbing for like a month. The next couple of months, it was like once a week, if that, if I had the time and energy. Actually I preferred painting to going out. And, well, once you’ve had the best, nothing else compares, plus it was easier to pretend my hand was your hand when no one else was around. Not to mention, the… uh… that red dildo you had? That helped.”

He’s not really looking at me, and blushing furiously. That means…

“I was wondering where that was… How long has it been since you’ve tricked?”

“It’s been, well, wait… you were looking for a dildo? The red one, but I thought that was my favorite… what we’re you going… nevermind, you don’t need to tell me, but it’s been about four months.”

He’s still blushing and, he feels so good in my lap, well, next to my lap, but close enough. Even though I’ve tucked him in and closed his pants, but my one hand is still on his ass, because, let’s face it, I haven’t touched it, him, in almost a year, and I refuse to let go if I don’t have to. I hope he doesn’t think that I was looking for it because… I know what he’s thinking, but he won’t believe what I was doing.

Now it’s my turn to duck my head a little and try my damndest not to blush.

“I was looking for it cause it was your favorite, and it… kind of… felt like you.”

“You mean, you… *ahem* I would have left it had I known you enjoyed it like that, but I think I took it for the same reason, that way I could pretend you were using it, you know, on me.”

“Thank you” He whispers in my ear “but now I think it’s your turn.” And before I even have a chance to speak or question or think, he’s on the floor, kneeling between my legs, unzipping my pants and has my cock in his mouth.

“FUCK!... God… Juuuussttiiiiiin…”

“Mmmmm” he hums, he fucking hums, and his eyes are boring into mine, while his tongue and mouth are working me like he’s a starving man in the middle of the desert and hasn’t had water in months and is in desperate need of liquid.

“uuuhhhh…” I know… exactly… what that… feels like.

“Fuuuuuucckk…”

He licks the head, and uses one hand to message my balls, well ball, but that never stopped him from doing exactly the same thing he’s always done, just like there’s nothing wrong.

He hums again, god, that feels so good. The vibrations of the hums and moans feel incredible. I’ve had a lot of blow jobs, too many to count, from way too many guys, but Justin.

“Ooohhh… Juuusss…”

No one, and I repeat, absolutely no fucking person in the whole fucking world gives a blow job better than my Sunshine. And yes, I just thought my Sunshine. Cause he’s mine. Mine!

“AAAHHH…” He just chuckled, fuck that felt… I must… have said… mine… out loud.

He takes his other hand and puts two fingers up to my mouth. I suck on them like he’s sucking my cock.

“Aaahhhh…” he groans as he takes his mouth off my cock for a sec, I guess his fingers are enjoying these extra sensations.

He pulls his fingers out of his mouth fast and, he moves fast again, and he deep throats me at the same time he shoves his two fingers up my ass and hits my prostate.

“FUUUUUCK…” I can’t help but to arch off the sofa and can barely breathe.

He hits my prostate and sucks my cocks like a vacuum, and swallows around the head.

“Uuuhhhh… soon… close…”

He nods, barely, cause let’s face it, his mouth and head aren’t exactly in a position to nod much, but I feel it more than see it. So he jabs my prostate while finger fucking me hard. He pulls his mouth off my cock so fast it feels like he’s trying to take it with him, grabs my cock with his other hand hard and strokes fast.

“Come for me Brian… now.” He demands as he looks me right into my eyes, which haven’t closed cause watching him is almost as good as what he’s doing to me.

“JUSTIN!” And come… just like that, he commanded me, and I listened. How the fuck could I not.

“I know… what… you mean… about not… coming… that hard… in… months.”

He’s licking me clean, not to get it hard again, but because he loves the taste of me that much. Although, he keeps licking and I’ll get hard pretty damn fast.

He tucks me in, and scoots up so he’s straddling my lap and kisses me. Softly, gently, and moans, cause he can taste me with him, and I can still taste him on me, and I moan, I can’t help it. He tastes so good, we taste so fucking good.

“Been months for you, too?” He asks right after pulling away to breath.

“Yeah, I mean…”

“It’s okay, I believe you, we’re so fucking good together, nothing else can compare. And like I said, we’ve both changed. Tricks aren’t necessary, they’re not even that fun anymore. If… this is probably the wrong time for this, but I’ve gotta say it. If… I… dammit.”

“Justin… it’s okay, I think I know where you’re going with this… maybe it’ll be easier if I just said this: I can’t promise to not fuck up, but I can promise to always be honest and open and tell you everything. And when I say I may fuck up, I don’t mean fucking… because I know I can promise monogamy, because I only want you.”

“Brian… you… I…”

“Didn’t think you’d ever hear that did you Sunshine?”

“No, it’s not that, I… well, it is that, kind of… I didn’t know what to expect coming home, and now… I’ve got everything. I don’t know how some 17 year old naïve virgin was lucky enough to find the perfect fucking man of his dreams under a lamppost outside this club, and in the guise of an uncaring, selfish asshole.”

“What do you mean guise, I like my reputation of an uncaring, selfish asshole, that’s how I get things done, but I’ll certainly take the perfect fucking compliment. Thank you, and your fucking is pretty perfect yourself.”

“Brain… that’s not what I meant and you know it. You are perfect. We both have flaws, and we’ll probably both fuck up. And I know I can promise monogamy, too. I know you can, as well, you tried once to prove you could, and I just wasn’t ready. And I promise to be open and honest and tell you everything as well. And I only want to be with you, you know?”

I look him right in the eyes, hold his face with both hands and say slowly, but proudly, strongly “I do.”

His eyes glisten and his lips quiver a little. Then he holds my head like I’m holding his and looks deep within my eyes, nods and “I do… too.”

“Does this mean I still have to pay for a ceremony and tuxes and reception?”

“Brian.” He laughs and whacks my chest. “Yes, I remember something about golden gardenias…”

“I think that can totally be arranged.” I say softly, smiling, my smile, or rather, his smile, the smile I have that only he sees, maybe Gus, but no one else gets to see this smile.

“Can we go the loft? I’ve missed it, I’ve missed holding you, and being with you there.”

“No.”

“What, but… we can’t stay here.” He looks sad and confused.

“Not the loft… Let’s go home.”

And I get his smile, or my smile, only my smile. No one has seen this smile, and no one will ever see this smile. This is more than his Sunshine smile, it’s his ‘I love Brian with all my heart’ smile. And I’ve only seen it once before, in a parking garage, next to my jeep, and I get to see it again.

“Home, I like the sound of that… but I have to pee first.”

And we both laugh, god I love his laugh, and I get to hear it for the rest of my life. And I don’t care how long that is, because I have him with me, always!


End file.
